Lycana Roleplay

BRING THE PAIN

We are in the familiar forest, but not yet in the clearing. Lycana moves along, stopping here or there to gather whatever herbs and foliage strike her fancy. The moonlight bathes her in its gentle glow, giving her skin an almost opalescent value. She gently runs her hands along the bark of a tree, assessing for a moment before pulling a knife out from the folds of her cloak, carefully paring away a segment before both disappear back into its voluminous folds. A low howl from far off in the distance rents the air, giving her pause. She remains still, shifting back into motion only as the wolfs cry fades from the night. A mere desire for companionship from its brethren, nothing more. She spies some promising blooms and stoops down, fingers nimble plucking the flowers from the stems. A large shadow appears behind her as she does this, but she doesn’t seem to notice. It grows larger as it draws nearer, until it looms over her. Without taking her eyes off her task, she speaks. “You are late tonight.” She rises, turning to face the hooded man. “We have much to do.” The hood shifts as he appears to nod, coming abreast of her as they trek through the woods to Lycana’s clearing. This night, she would be teaching him how to make a simple potion once more, this time though, they would partake in it, sharing the brew, the first step in building the bridge between his mind and her own. There were multiple steps, but they would have to be spread out over time. She sets out all the ingredients, pulling a mortar and pestle from its resting spot, placing it on the stump. Under her guidance, his large hands fumble their way through handling the delicate items, plucking and measuring each into the mortar. Once done, she steps forward, setting to work with the pestle, grinding everything into a paste. As she works, he moves over her, enveloping her within both his shadow and body, bathing her in darkness. His arms come around, removing the tools from her hands, taking the action up himself. The fine hairs on the back of her neck rise, the feeling washing over her like that of being among another predator, and stalked by it. It was disconcerting. She cranks her head around over her shoulder to look up at him, but he is seemingly intent on his task. She is hyperaware of the large body behind her, folded over her own, the arms on either side of her, much like a cage. Prickles rise all over her flesh. That must be the reason for the strange feelings, the arms like bars closing her in. She tries to shake them off as she takes the mortar of paste, ducking under the thick arm of the hooded man, bringing it to a pot of water bubbling over a small fire. She scrapes the contents in, stirring until it all breaks down. She tilts the pot, tipping the scalding liquid into a large prehistoric type mug. She walks back over to him, cupping the mug in two hands, sipping slowly until she had ingested half. She holds it out to him in offering, and he takes it, large hand dwarfing the mug. She stares at his face under the hood, holding his gaze as he purposely turns the mug, lowering his lips to the place hers had been moments earlier, drinking deeply of the elixir. Fascination flickering in her eyes, she watches as he finishes every last bit, hand holding the mug falling away to his side once done.

The sun is drooping low on the horizon as Lycana makes her way through the charming stone streets of Venice, drawing some curious looks from the few others that roamed the streets with her. She huddles close to the walls where shadows grew, her dress brushing against them with each step she took. Her eyes remain locked to the ground as she aimlessly takes the turns on autopilot, letting instinct guide her to where she was meant to be. Her mind wandered idly over the issues with Dion that were soon to be coming her way. She was not looking forward to the visit from the deity. What should be an honor would more than likely prove to me no more than a huge pain in her ass. And that Roland, always staring at her like he could sneak in between the cracks of her mind and read her deepest thoughts. He could be a problem in the future, she could see it.

As it was, after Warfare she would have little time to grab a plane back to North Carolina and handle these things, before jumping aboard yet another and coming back overseas for the next show. It raised her ire, which she could pull on in the ring, but she would rather not have to deal with it all together. The downfall of being amongst the higher ups of the disciples along the east coast she supposed. Turning away from the shitshow that awaited her at home, she skips over to the woman who she had settled a target on. Atara. Ahh, the things she had in mind for that particular being. Those suplexes had been delicious. Alas, she would have to wait. They both would. There were other matters at hand, and she, she was busy chasing her little star belt. It was okay, Lycana was the patient sort. She would merely watch and wait until their time was at hand. She would give Atara credit for one thing, and that was standing her ground when the challenge was issued, unlike the other coward who hid. Lycana was feeling downright affable this evening.

She comes across one of the deep canals that Venice was so known for. She steps onto the bridge, making her way slowly to the middle. She leans on the wall, looking out over the water as her mind travels once more, this time to the most important matter on her mind, one that dominated her thoughts ever since the Warfare card had been announced. Her opponent for the night, Marf. One of the so few on the XWF roster that she thought might actually be of interest to get into the ring with. She would go to him, find out if there was truth to all his words, all his claims or if he was fraudulent like so many she had encountered before. This time, she had a feeling she was going to be pleasantly surprised, finally getting her hands upon someone who wanted to hurt just like she did. It would turn out to be quite the evening indeed. She was looking forward to it more than she cared to admit.

“The people who consider you weak have not seen the wolf hiding behind your eyes, nor the flames inside your soul. Let them think you are weak and do what wolves and fire do best. Surprise them when they least expect it. I think Marf, that you, for all your words of encouragement, do not expect me to embrace the pain you say you will inflict upon me. Those words, those doubts of yours, wound me far more than anything you could do to me in that ring. I thought you understood me as you so claimed. I had hoped that was the case, had anticipated your response, assuring me that you felt the same. It seems as we both have uncertainties about each other when it comes to our predisposition towards violence.

Allow me to reassure you now, that I am everything that I declare myself, and am more than willing and able to back that up. In that ring Marf, I will step right up, toe to toe with you and invite you to do your worst. I will take it, savor it, turn it around and serve it right back to you, tenfold. Each and every blow you land, I will strive to deliver two. You become the darkness? The darkness is my home. I have invaded it, embraced it, taken control. I will do the same to you, wearing you down until you are winded and blown, limbs trembling, unable to continue on. In that moment, our eyes will meet, and I will whisper sweet nothings to you, as the spark of fight goes out and you accept your fate. I will make you belong to me, the same way the darkness does.

It seems as though we can agree, winning or losing doesn't matter... it is all what happens bell to bell. The amount of damage we can impose on each other. Testing each other's fortitude, feeling out boundaries and destroying them, pushing each other to the very limits of endurance and then farther still. You might be bigger Marf, but that is all you have. You inspire no trepidation in me. No, the thought of meeting you in the ring does not alarm me. It intoxicates me. The visions of bringing a man such as you, down to his knees enraptures me. Feeling my body sending yours hurtling through the air will be exhilarating. And make no mistake, the moment I have you down, I will do my best to keep you there, under my boot.

As for others distracting me from our perfect date at Warfare... never could anything pull my attention from the promise of such bloodshed! I guarantee that you are foremost in my mind, and I have been eagerly counting down the days. I may have momentary diversions, but through everything you are there, the center of my world, this I swear to you. In truth, none other has called forth my interest quite so thoroughly, alluringly alluding to such cruelties one can only imagine! Kindred spirits, as I want to spill your blood as much as you do mine. I need to decorate your skin in lesions. I crave sinking my teeth deep into your flesh, for your cries would be music to my ears.

And I will do all these things Marf, and so much more. I cannot give away all of my little dreams and desires, but I hope to have quelled your fears that I will not bring you the fight of your life. This is our chance to truly let go, a battle of beasts, before we are reduced to facing the sheep once more, toeing the line of depravity lest they cry off too soon for our liking. Let us not waste it. After all, we will set the tone for Warfare will we not? Let us bathe the arena in crimson. Fill the air with the sounds of flesh giving way to blows. Of bone upon bone. The harsh sounds that will come from you, as you struggle to keep going, to keep from letting me snuff your flame, and then as you fall... all you will hear is your own gasping breaths as you realize you have nothing left.”

The night has settled across Italy by this time, sending Lycana wandering once more. She wondered if there were any wolves about. Larger cities were not the preferred places to live for obvious reasons, but sometimes it could not be avoided. One could live and work in the city, then drive out to the woods for play. All she had to do was open up her mind and send out feelers, letting them feel her presence. She didn’t have much sway over here, but it was likely her name had made it this far regardless. But no, she resisted the temptation to lose herself in the lycanthropy of a new country. She had to keep her mind sharp for her match, focused on the man who demanded she think of nothing else. Instead, she turns her path towards her hotel.

Normally she would wave off such demands, but this one... he deserved her all. Lycana makes her way through her hotel, climbing the stairs, keeping going beyond the floor her room was on. Reaching a doorway, she steps through onto a rooftop terrace. She takes a seat in one of the chairs, crossing her legs as she gazes up at the moon hovering over her. Wednesdays match was the reason she had become a wrestler, putting her own body through the pain as she meted it out to someone who wouldn’t cry foul and go running to the referee for help. She had not realized how few and far between these moments would be. Her heart begins to pound in excitement once more as the visuals of what could be play through her mind.

“You have awoken a sleeping wolf Marf, be sure to watch your step. I am shameless in my greed for viciousness, I won't rest until I am satisfied. Prove yourself worthy of the expectations I have heaped on you. Ive crept into your heart and your mind, but I promise you... you won't see me closing in. I'm already under your skin Marf, you'll never know what hit you until it's all over. I'm going to make you suffer. I’ll make you see, make you understand, take you under the surface and watch you drown in me. In just three short days, we meet... suspense thunders through my very veins. Me, back down? Never say such a thing! Consider that contract signed. I'm waiting for you with open arms, I hope you're ready to fall.”

The Past... Time Unknown

Lycana hunches over her work, carefully selecting things from memory, dropping them into the bowl in front of her. As if they had a mind of their own, her eyes wander up to stare at the crimson haired girl who was also working in the meadow. They narrow on her, jealousy pouring over her like a live flame. Lycana’s motions become a little more stiff, harsher as she watches Arcana carefully pour out her own concoction, waving a hand over it while chanting, the substance going from a dark hue to a bright, pleasant pink color. Veiling spell. Of course she had that power. Why not just add it to all the other damn things she had.

Frustrated, Lycana moves her bowl over to the fire, setting it down over the top of it. Smoke begins to curl from it, a noxious smell filling the air... one that shouldn’t be. “Wha...” She looks down in time for the entire thing to essentially explode in a toxic smelling mess. Lycana falls back, raising her arms against the shrapnel of bowl pieces and various ingredients. She slowly lowers them, staring at the mess before her. She crouches down, picking up a piece of the bowl, cautiously approaching her work space once more. She slowly starts to clean, wracking her mind for just what she had done wrong. If she hadnt been so distracted by that....

“I think you added blackthorn instead of elder...” the voice spoke from over her shoulder, causing Lycana to stiffen up even more. She turns, her own pale eyes looking down and meeting the amber ones of Arcana. She has the overwhelming urge to wrap her hands around the smaller woman's throat, and squeeze until those golden eyes popped right out and went rolling across the floor. Her fingers flexed, as if that were even a possibility. She grits her teeth as she fights her desire to wreck Arcana, and show her just what she thought of her. “Get away from me.” the words are a venomous hiss, spewed from her mouth. Arcana recoils slightly, her mouth going round with surprise. ”I was just trying to help...”

“I don’t need your help!” she cuts Arcana off, whirling around to continue cleaning her, her hands shaking with absolute rage. This would be yet another ding against her, she could see it now. Lycana needs to pay better attention to her work. “Look, I don’t know why you don’t like me, maybe we can...” Lycana whirls on Arcana pushing forward until she is right atop her. Arcana stands firm, staring up at her. “I don’t want anything to do with you. I don’t even think you should be here, especially after that stunt with your little friend Damien.” The blow hits home as an expression of panic and horror makes its way across Arcana’s features before she smooths them back into the blank mask once more.

Seizing this like a dog with a bone, Lycana bares her teeth in an evil smile. “I enjoyed torturing him you know. His flesh parting under my knife. Do you want to know how he cried out? You know whose name he called for, for help?” Lycana’s eyes gleam with glee as she taunts Arcana, her own mind falling back to when she had had plied her trade on the dumb bitch's friend who had made the mistake of sneaking in. “ENOUGH” the word was a roar from Arcana. She jabs her finger at Lycana’s chest her expression thunderous. “You just wait until I get you in the ring Lycana, you will regret going against me then.” Lycana starts to laugh but stops abruptly. “The ring? What are you talking about?” Arcana smirks, feeling herself with the upper hand now. “I'm going to be training... I'll be joining you in the business eventually.”

Lycana gapes at her as she saunters off. How could she have known Lycana had been training to be a wrestler? She fumes. She would make it into a fed before her. She would make her mark long before this little upstart got there. And when she did... oh they would meet and Lycana would take her out once and for all. Removing her from existence, the damned thorn in her side. She growls softly at Arcana’s retreating back. “It'll be you regretting ever crossing me Arcana... I promise you that.”



BRING THE PAIN We are in the familiar forest, but not yet in the clearing. Lycana moves along, stopping here or there to gather whatever herbs and foliage strike her fancy. The moonlight bathes her in its gentle glow, giving her skin an almost opalescent value. She gently runs her hands along the bark of a tree, assessing for a moment before pulling a knife out from the folds of her cloak, carefully paring away a segment before both disappear back into its voluminous folds. A low howl from far off in the distance rents the air, giving her pause. She remains still, shifting back into motion only as the wolfs cry fades from the night. A mere desire for companionship from its brethren, nothing more. She spies some promising blooms and stoops down, fingers nimble plucking the flowers from the stems. A large shadow appears behind her as she does this, but she doesn’t seem to notice. It grows larger as it draws nearer, until it looms over her. Without taking her eyes off her task, she speaks. “You are late tonight.” She rises, turning to face the hooded man. “We have much to do.” The hood shifts as he appears to nod, coming abreast of her as they trek through the woods to Lycana’s clearing. This night, she would be teaching him how to make a simple potion once more, this time though, they would partake in it, sharing the brew, the first step in building the bridge between his mind and her own. There were multiple steps, but they would have to be spread out over time. She sets out all the ingredients, pulling a mortar and pestle from its resting spot, placing it on the stump. Under her guidance, his large hands fumble their way through handling the delicate items, plucking and measuring each into the mortar. Once done, she steps forward, setting to work with the pestle, grinding everything into a paste. As she works, he moves over her, enveloping her within both his shadow and body, bathing her in darkness. His arms come around, removing the tools from her hands, taking the action up himself. The fine hairs on the back of her neck rise, the feeling washing over her like that of being among another predator, and stalked by it. It was disconcerting. She cranks her head around over her shoulder to look up at him, but he is seemingly intent on his task. She is hyperaware of the large body behind her, folded over her own, the arms on either side of her, much like a cage. Prickles rise all over her flesh. That must be the reason for the strange feelings, the arms like bars closing her in. She tries to shake them off as she takes the mortar of paste, ducking under the thick arm of the hooded man, bringing it to a pot of water bubbling over a small fire. She scrapes the contents in, stirring until it all breaks down. She tilts the pot, tipping the scalding liquid into a large prehistoric type mug. She walks back over to him, cupping the mug in two hands, sipping slowly until she had ingested half. She holds it out to him in offering, and he takes it, large hand dwarfing the mug. She stares at his face under the hood, holding his gaze as he purposely turns the mug, lowering his lips to the place hers had been moments earlier, drinking deeply of the elixir. Fascination flickering in her eyes, she watches as he finishes every last bit, hand holding the mug falling away to his side once done. The sun is drooping low on the horizon as Lycana makes her way through the charming stone streets of Venice, drawing some curious looks from the few others that roamed the streets with her. She huddles close to the walls where shadows grew, her dress brushing against them with each step she took. Her eyes remain locked to the ground as she aimlessly takes the turns on autopilot, letting instinct guide her to where she was meant to be. Her mind wandered idly over the issues with Dion that were soon to be coming her way. She was not looking forward to the visit from the deity. What should be an honor would more than likely prove to me no more than a huge pain in her ass. And that Roland, always staring at her like he could sneak in between the cracks of her mind and read her deepest thoughts. He could be a problem in the future, she could see it. As it was, after Warfare she would have little time to grab a plane back to North Carolina and handle these things, before jumping aboard yet another and coming back overseas for the next show. It raised her ire, which she could pull on in the ring, but she would rather not have to deal with it all together. The downfall of being amongst the higher ups of the disciples along the east coast she supposed. Turning away from the shitshow that awaited her at home, she skips over to the woman who she had settled a target on. Atara. Ahh, the things she had in mind for that particular being. Those suplexes had been delicious. Alas, she would have to wait. They both would. There were other matters at hand, and she, she was busy chasing her little star belt. It was okay, Lycana was the patient sort. She would merely watch and wait until their time was at hand. She would give Atara credit for one thing, and that was standing her ground when the challenge was issued, unlike the other coward who hid. Lycana was feeling downright affable this evening. She comes across one of the deep canals that Venice was so known for. She steps onto the bridge, making her way slowly to the middle. She leans on the wall, looking out over the water as her mind travels once more, this time to the most important matter on her mind, one that dominated her thoughts ever since the Warfare card had been announced. Her opponent for the night, Marf. One of the so few on the XWF roster that she thought might actually be of interest to get into the ring with. She would go to him, find out if there was truth to all his words, all his claims or if he was fraudulent like so many she had encountered before. This time, she had a feeling she was going to be pleasantly surprised, finally getting her hands upon someone who wanted to hurt just like she did. It would turn out to be quite the evening indeed. She was looking forward to it more than she cared to admit. “The people who consider you weak have not seen the wolf hiding behind your eyes, nor the flames inside your soul. Let them think you are weak and do what wolves and fire do best. Surprise them when they least expect it. I think Marf, that you, for all your words of encouragement, do not expect me to embrace the pain you say you will inflict upon me. Those words, those doubts of yours, wound me far more than anything you could do to me in that ring. I thought you understood me as you so claimed. I had hoped that was the case, had anticipated your response, assuring me that you felt the same. It seems as we both have uncertainties about each other when it comes to our predisposition towards violence. Allow me to reassure you now, that I am everything that I declare myself, and am more than willing and able to back that up. In that ring Marf, I will step right up, toe to toe with you and invite you to do your worst. I will take it, savor it, turn it around and serve it right back to you, tenfold. Each and every blow you land, I will strive to deliver two. You become the darkness? The darkness is my home. I have invaded it, embraced it, taken control. I will do the same to you, wearing you down until you are winded and blown, limbs trembling, unable to continue on. In that moment, our eyes will meet, and I will whisper sweet nothings to you, as the spark of fight goes out and you accept your fate. I will make you belong to me, the same way the darkness does. It seems as though we can agree, winning or losing doesn't matter... it is all what happens bell to bell. The amount of damage we can impose on each other. Testing each other's fortitude, feeling out boundaries and destroying them, pushing each other to the very limits of endurance and then farther still. You might be bigger Marf, but that is all you have. You inspire no trepidation in me. No, the thought of meeting you in the ring does not alarm me. It intoxicates me. The visions of bringing a man such as you, down to his knees enraptures me. Feeling my body sending yours hurtling through the air will be exhilarating. And make no mistake, the moment I have you down, I will do my best to keep you there, under my boot. As for others distracting me from our perfect date at Warfare... never could anything pull my attention from the promise of such bloodshed! I guarantee that you are foremost in my mind, and I have been eagerly counting down the days. I may have momentary diversions, but through everything you are there, the center of my world, this I swear to you. In truth, none other has called forth my interest quite so thoroughly, alluringly alluding to such cruelties one can only imagine! Kindred spirits, as I want to spill your blood as much as you do mine. I need to decorate your skin in lesions. I crave sinking my teeth deep into your flesh, for your cries would be music to my ears. And I will do all these things Marf, and so much more. I cannot give away all of my little dreams and desires, but I hope to have quelled your fears that I will not bring you the fight of your life. This is our chance to truly let go, a battle of beasts, before we are reduced to facing the sheep once more, toeing the line of depravity lest they cry off too soon for our liking. Let us not waste it. After all, we will set the tone for Warfare will we not? Let us bathe the arena in crimson. Fill the air with the sounds of flesh giving way to blows. Of bone upon bone. The harsh sounds that will come from you, as you struggle to keep going, to keep from letting me snuff your flame, and then as you fall... all you will hear is your own gasping breaths as you realize you have nothing left.” The night has settled across Italy by this time, sending Lycana wandering once more. She wondered if there were any wolves about. Larger cities were not the preferred places to live for obvious reasons, but sometimes it could not be avoided. One could live and work in the city, then drive out to the woods for play. All she had to do was open up her mind and send out feelers, letting them feel her presence. She didn’t have much sway over here, but it was likely her name had made it this far regardless. But no, she resisted the temptation to lose herself in the lycanthropy of a new country. She had to keep her mind sharp for her match, focused on the man who demanded she think of nothing else. Instead, she turns her path towards her hotel. Normally she would wave off such demands, but this one... he deserved her all. Lycana makes her way through her hotel, climbing the stairs, keeping going beyond the floor her room was on. Reaching a doorway, she steps through onto a rooftop terrace. She takes a seat in one of the chairs, crossing her legs as she gazes up at the moon hovering over her. Wednesdays match was the reason she had become a wrestler, putting her own body through the pain as she meted it out to someone who wouldn’t cry foul and go running to the referee for help. She had not realized how few and far between these moments would be. Her heart begins to pound in excitement once more as the visuals of what could be play through her mind. “You have awoken a sleeping wolf Marf, be sure to watch your step. I am shameless in my greed for viciousness, I won't rest until I am satisfied. Prove yourself worthy of the expectations I have heaped on you. Ive crept into your heart and your mind, but I promise you... you won't see me closing in. I'm already under your skin Marf, you'll never know what hit you until it's all over. I'm going to make you suffer. I’ll make you see, make you understand, take you under the surface and watch you drown in me. In just three short days, we meet... suspense thunders through my very veins. Me, back down? Never say such a thing! Consider that contract signed. I'm waiting for you with open arms, I hope you're ready to fall.” The Past... Time Unknown Lycana hunches over her work, carefully selecting things from memory, dropping them into the bowl in front of her. As if they had a mind of their own, her eyes wander up to stare at the crimson haired girl who was also working in the meadow. They narrow on her, jealousy pouring over her like a live flame. Lycana’s motions become a little more stiff, harsher as she watches Arcana carefully pour out her own concoction, waving a hand over it while chanting, the substance going from a dark hue to a bright, pleasant pink color. Veiling spell. Of course she had that power. Why not just add it to all the other damn things she had. Frustrated, Lycana moves her bowl over to the fire, setting it down over the top of it. Smoke begins to curl from it, a noxious smell filling the air... one that shouldn’t be. “Wha...” She looks down in time for the entire thing to essentially explode in a toxic smelling mess. Lycana falls back, raising her arms against the shrapnel of bowl pieces and various ingredients. She slowly lowers them, staring at the mess before her. She crouches down, picking up a piece of the bowl, cautiously approaching her work space once more. She slowly starts to clean, wracking her mind for just what she had done wrong. If she hadnt been so distracted by that.... “I think you added blackthorn instead of elder...” the voice spoke from over her shoulder, causing Lycana to stiffen up even more. She turns, her own pale eyes looking down and meeting the amber ones of Arcana. She has the overwhelming urge to wrap her hands around the smaller woman's throat, and squeeze until those golden eyes popped right out and went rolling across the floor. Her fingers flexed, as if that were even a possibility. She grits her teeth as she fights her desire to wreck Arcana, and show her just what she thought of her. “Get away from me.” the words are a venomous hiss, spewed from her mouth. Arcana recoils slightly, her mouth going round with surprise. ”I was just trying to help...” “I don’t need your help!” she cuts Arcana off, whirling around to continue cleaning her, her hands shaking with absolute rage. This would be yet another ding against her, she could see it now. Lycana needs to pay better attention to her work. “Look, I don’t know why you don’t like me, maybe we can...” Lycana whirls on Arcana pushing forward until she is right atop her. Arcana stands firm, staring up at her. “I don’t want anything to do with you. I don’t even think you should be here, especially after that stunt with your little friend Damien.” The blow hits home as an expression of panic and horror makes its way across Arcana’s features before she smooths them back into the blank mask once more. Seizing this like a dog with a bone, Lycana bares her teeth in an evil smile. “I enjoyed torturing him you know. His flesh parting under my knife. Do you want to know how he cried out? You know whose name he called for, for help?” Lycana’s eyes gleam with glee as she taunts Arcana, her own mind falling back to when she had had plied her trade on the dumb bitch's friend who had made the mistake of sneaking in. “ENOUGH” the word was a roar from Arcana. She jabs her finger at Lycana’s chest her expression thunderous. “You just wait until I get you in the ring Lycana, you will regret going against me then.” Lycana starts to laugh but stops abruptly. “The ring? What are you talking about?” Arcana smirks, feeling herself with the upper hand now. “I'm going to be training... I'll be joining you in the business eventually.” Lycana gapes at her as she saunters off. How could she have known Lycana had been training to be a wrestler? She fumes. She would make it into a fed before her. She would make her mark long before this little upstart got there. And when she did... oh they would meet and Lycana would take her out once and for all. Removing her from existence, the damned thorn in her side. She growls softly at Arcana’s retreating back. “It'll be you regretting ever crossing me Arcana... I promise you that.”